


Quidditch World Cup

by Anonymous



Series: took time (to let you know) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Gen, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Pre-Slash, this is tagged as & but we all know where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 05:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13850745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Draco is hit by a curse during the attack on the Cup. This is the immediate aftermath.---“A-And the voice that cast the…the Dark Mark incantation was much deeper,” Hermione finally spoke up. “Like a grown man. Over there.” She pointed. Crouch stalked off, and Mr. Weasley and the rest of the ministry officials followed him. Harry privately breathed a sigh of relief.Said relief was short lived, however, as that moment was when Mrs. Malfoy decided to address him.“You…you were the one to save my son’s life?"





	Quidditch World Cup

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, again! Here's the part that's actually focused on Harry. Cheers!

Ron was the one to find him, initially. Well, actually—

Tripped over him, more like. Harry wondered how he would have fared if they’d walked past him. They’d almost run right past him.

“We can’t leave him!” Hermione reasoned, though she glanced fearfully back towards the campsite, listening to the jeers growing closer. They were on the edge of the woods, and it would be all too easy to spot them should the masked men doing this come any closer. The lights of the curses and fire glinted off her dark skin. Draco Malfoy laid on the ground at their feet. Nasty looking blue-black lines crawled up his skin from the collars and cuffs of his robe, and as they looked on, the lines slowly crept further up. The lines had almost reached his jaw.

“Are you mad?!” Ron demanded. His face was probably red, from anger or fear. Harry couldn’t tell; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Malfoy’s slack face. “Those are Death Eaters out there, Hermione! Bloody hell, his dad’s probably one of them!”

“That didn’t seem to help him much, did it?” Harry quipped. He made his decision, leaning down and hauling one of Malfoy’s arms over his shoulder. “You helping or not?”

Ron gaped at him, but ultimately groaned and grabbed Malfoy’s other arm. Slowly, they made their way further into the woods, until the shouting was at least partially muted. Harry and Ron lowered Malfoy to the ground. He let out a whimper when he hit the dirt, but didn’t show any other signs of actually being conscious. The lines had reached his lips, and were slowly wrapping around one of his ears.

“What do we do about that?” Harry gestured at the lines.

“It’s just a face, Harry, don’t be rude,” Ron said. Harry snorted, shoved him and then turned.

“Hermione?” Harry questioned. If any one of them knew something that could help, it would be her.

She kneeled down beside Malfoy, wand out. “I’ll perform a stasis charm,” she said tentatively, waving her wand. “But I really don’t recognize this.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe if I…” She waved her wand again, and this time Malfoy groaned, eyes fluttering open.

He blinked, eyes focusing on the sky first, then on Hermione. His face twisted, and he scrambled back. “What the hell are you doing to me?” he demanded. He tried to push himself to his feet, but collapsed, cried out and grabbed his shoulder.

“Malfoy, wait, you were cursed,” Hermione said. “We tried to help, but it’s still—”

“I don’t need any help!” Malfoy snarled. “Especially not from—”

“Oi!” Ron cut in. “Watch it, she probably saved your life!”

Harry thought he heard leaves rustling. Malfoy scoffed. “Likely,” he drawled. “Or she just made it worse! You know, it—”

“Shush!” Harry hissed. Malfoy looked offended, but Harry clapped a hand over his mouth before he could say anything else. “Did you hear that?”

Instantly, Ron’s face grew serious, and he cautiously looked around them. Hermione stayed kneeling, and looked worried. There was silence for another few moments, and then—

“MORSMORDRE!”

A green light shot in the air, and exploded into a ghostly, ghastly shape hovering in the air above them. Ron sucked in a breath, and Malfoy paled. It was a skull, and out of the skull’s teeth wound a snake, that slowly lengthened, and looped itself into a complex knot that sort of looked like the infinity symbol.

A second later, Harry hear distinctive pops stagger out around them. Instinctively, he grabbed Ron around the shoulders and threw them both to the ground beside Hermione and Malfoy. He curled around Malfoy, pushing most of his body over him, since he wasn’t exactly capable of defending himself just then.

“Stupefy!”

The red light of the spells fired flashed over them, and Harry felt one ruffle his hair.

“Stop!” Two voices rang out, one Harry recognized and one higher and unfamiliar, but just as panicked. Harry looked up, and saw Mr. Weasley pushing aside the men surrounding him. “That’s my son!”

Mrs. Malfoy was hot on his heels.

Mr. Weasley rushed to the trio’s side, dropping into a crouch beside them. Mrs. Malfoy threw herself down beside Malfoy, who had slipped back into unconsciousness. “Harry, Ron, Hermione, are you alright?” One of the men broke away and stomped over to them, waving his wand and cutting them off before Harry could answer. It was Crouch.

“Which of you did it!” he demanded.

“Barty, they’re just kids—” Mr. Weasley tried, but Crouch cut over him.

“They were at the scene of the crime! Which of you conjured the Dark Mark? Was it you?” he demanded, pointing his wand at Hermione.

“Oi, she’s muggleborn!” Ron piped up.

“She would hardly even know how,” Mr. Weasley explained. Hermione looked too frightened to be offended at the notion that she couldn’t know something if she wanted to.

Crouch’s eyes drifted, and caught on the Malfoys. Mrs. Malfoy had started crying, but her wand was out and she was determinedly mouthing shaky incantations, making the lines slowly retreat. “But he would, wouldn’t he?” he muttered.

“Hey, wait,” Harry said, grabbing Crouch’s sleeve before he could take more than a step. “He was half dead when we found him, and we were the ones to haul him back here away from the fighting. We were with him the whole time, he couldn’t have done it.”

Crouch eyed him suspiciously. “You attend school with him, do you not? Same year?”

“Harry wouldn’t defend that prat if it weren’t the truth,” Ron protested. “Ask anyone, they hate each other.”

“A-And the voice that cast the…the Dark Mark incantation was much deeper,” Hermione finally spoke up. “Like a grown man. Over there.” She pointed. Crouch stalked off, and Mr. Weasley and the rest of the ministry officials followed him. Harry privately breathed a sigh of relief.

Said relief was short lived, however, as that moment was when Mrs. Malfoy decided to address him.

“You…you were the one to save my son’s life?” she questioned. Harry squirmed. Her eyes were intense, like a particularly feral tiger.

“Wait, really?” Ron demanded. “Malfoy was seriously _dying_ from whatever was done to him?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Malfoy said simply.

“I didn’t do much,” Hermione said, ducking her head. “Just a stasis charm, and _revenerate_.”

Mrs. Malfoy looked at her, then. “You’re Hermione Granger?” Hermione nodded. “The muggleborn witch Harry Potter usually spends his time with?” Hermione blinked at that, frowning. If Malfoy’s mom had continued, Harry wasn’t sure if she would have cried or hit her.

“She may be muggleborn,” Ron said hotly, interrupting. “But she’s worth ten of you!”

Mrs. Malfoy’s face twisted into an expression of annoyance. Harry could see where Malfoy got it from. “I merely meant to identify, not offend. Calm down, boy.” She turned back to Hermione, and her words seemed forced out of her, now that she knew Hermione wasn’t some pureblood witch. “You did, in fact, save his life. If you hadn’t done what you did, he would not have lasted another ten minutes. Thank you, Miss Granger. I am in your debt.”

Mr. Weasley stumbled back through to them. “Well, whoever they were, they got away. Winky was there, though, and Crouch went mad—gave her clothes and sent her away. She was found beside this wand.”

“Hey, that’s mine!” Harry said. “The one I grabbed from the tent must have been one of Fred and George’s.”

Mr. Weasley harrumphed. “At least that’s good. The Death Eater’s Disapparated the second they saw the Mark. We’ll investigate, but between you and me, it’s unlikely we’ll find them.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Mrs. Malfoy said after a moment, and they turned to her. She carefully got to her feet. “If you gather a task force of five or more Aurors and go to the Wildberry House, you will have a good chance of catching them.”

“Wait, you knew—” Mr. Weasley began, outraged.

“No,” Mrs. Malfoy shook her head, a cold smile coming to her face. “My husband rarely tells me his plans, now or during the first years of our marriage, though he likely warded our tent so it would have survived the fires they set.” She laughed. “If only either me or my son knew to stay inside.” She slowly reached behind her neck, unhooking a thin necklace. It was made of diamonds strung together and hanging from the main line by silver thread, with a ruby triple the size of the other jewels as the centerpiece. “The house is just his usual…retreat. Touch the faces of the two diamonds on either side of the ruby together, and this necklace becomes a portkey. To activate it, say ‘Toujours Pur.’”

She held it out, and Mr. Weasley took it from he mechanically, the rest of his body frozen in shock.

“You will appear in the master bedroom,” Mrs. Malfoy told him. “I do not know where they will be in the house, so keep your wands at the ready.”

“O-Of course,” Mr. Weasley said, staring at the necklace. Mrs. Malfoy waved her wand over Malfoy’s body one last time, and then leaned down to haul him easily into her arms. She moved as if to leave, and then paused.

“And Arthur? One last thing,” she said. “Do not let a single one of them get away.” She twisted on the spot, and was gone.

 

Harry’s head was still reeling by the time they were due to go back to Hogwarts. He trailed behind Ron and Hermione as they walked down the train, trying to find a free compartment. They were talking about the _Daily Prophet_ article, though Harry didn’t much care what the paper said.

“—and how could they keep their names out of it?” Ron demanded. “‘The Ministry declined to comment,’ my arse! Daddy Malfoy paid them off, even from prison, likely.”

“I’m just glad they were caught at all,” Hermione said. She still seemed shaken; Harry could understand. The wizarding world was turning out to have just the same problems as the muggle world, just in different forms. The memories of Uncle Vernon ranting about his hair rang in the back of his mind. Finally, they found an empty compartment. Ron and Hermione went in easily, but Harry saw a flash of blond out of the corner of his eye, and hesitated.

“Harry, you coming?” Ron said, already sat down.

“In a minute,” he said, and walked down to where he thought he saw Malfoy disappear. For a moment, Harry thought he’d imagined things, before he saw Malfoy slumped tiredly in the corner. He dithered at the entrance of the compartment, unsure of what to say. He wanted to make sure he was okay, but hadn’t thought beyond that.

“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy asked tiredly.

“Er—” Harry cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

Malfoy glared at him. “As you can clearly see,” he said lowly, nearly snarling. “So you can run back to Weasel and Granger and the lot of you can shove your pity up your arse.”

Harry bristled at that. “S’not pity!” he protested. “You nearly died!”

“How unfortunate for you, then, that I didn’t.”

“I don’t want you to die!” Harry shouted, then lowered his voice. “Just because you’re a git doesn’t mean you should be hit with—what was that, anyway?”

“Wedding gift,” Malfoy told him warily, sitting up fully. “My dear Aunt Bella apparently wanted to bond with her new brother-in-law.”

“Your _dad_ hit you with that spell?” Harry exclaimed. For some reason, he hadn’t thought to apply the Dursley’s apathy towards their family’s health as something that happened in the wizarding world.

Malfoy glared. “Not intentionally,” he mumbled. He didn’t sound sure.

“Still a dick move,” Harry said, and Malfoy snorted. Harry shifted, a thought coming to him. “Hey, do you want to come back to our compartment? Hermione would want to know you made it out alright.” Harry couldn’t honestly vouch for Ron, since his best friend held a grudge like a champ, but Hermione was a bit more sympathetic.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I’ll pass,” he responded. “While I’m thankful she saved my life, I’m not friends with Granger, or you, and the Weasel would hex me before I made it all the way through the door.”

“Maybe not,” Harry shrugged.

Malfoy blinked at him incredulously. “You’re mad, Potter,” Malfoy told him finally. “Go back to your friends.”

Harry sighed, turning to walk away. “Fine,” he said, and looked back. “The offer still stands, though. Any time you want.”

Malfoy considered him. Harry struggled not to straighten his shirt, or tug his hair, or something equally stupid. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said finally. Harry nodded jerkily, and headed back to Ron and Hermione, forcing himself to just walk.

Well.

He resolved to actually pay attention to their talk of what the _Prophet_ said, if only to keep his mind off whatever feeling _that_ was.

**Author's Note:**

> A review would be much appreciated!


End file.
